


Noone notices, but if they do they don't bring it up

by Featherly



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depressing, Depression, Self-Harm, not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-29 00:44:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11429628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Featherly/pseuds/Featherly
Summary: It makes Dick feel better, and then it makes him feel like shit.





	Noone notices, but if they do they don't bring it up

The second the drink hit Dick’s lips he couldnt stop. He went through one double strength glass of rum mixed half with coke, then another, and another. After five drinks he didn’t even need the coke any more and went through shots of rum like it was noone’s business, and he firmly believed it wasn’t. 

He sat in his room of the manor, sure he wouldn’t be disturbed by anyone; Jason hadn’t returned in weeks and Tim had his own family to be with. Bruce was keeping up his public appearence with Alfred by his side meaning Dick was meant to be alone for the following two or three days. He had been drinking since 1 pm, and had 14 total shots after the mixes just before 5pm. 

This had become something of a ritual for Dick whenever he was alone for a long period of time. It helped him cope with the loneliness and sense of unimportance he constantly felt day in and day out. 

He looked at the glass in front of him, a blur in his vision. Next to it was his phone, and next to that a scalpel blade he had stolen from his school’s dissection lab at some point. He had another shot, letting it down his throat without feeling any more. He picked up his phone and went on messenger. He messaged his best friend, Wally West, another thing he did in this ritual. 

He cared deeply about his friends, but wasn’t sure how to express this without having a few Drinks first. He messaged him ‘R U OK’ and stared at his phone wating for a reply.   
‘Yeah, all g.’ 

Dick knew Wally was already aware of his current condition, even though he only typed four letters. He decided he was annoying his friend, threw back another shot, and typed again. ‘R U sure man? Plz tell me if you’re not.’

‘Yeah man, all fine on this front.’ 

He was keeping it short on purpose, and Dick knew this fully well. He knew he was no fun to talk to, especially after having a few. He replaced his phone to the table, knowing full well he would be back on it any second now. He put back yet another drink, and then picked up the scalpel blade. 

He moved it fast and repetatively in horizontal lines across his left arm, all the way to the elbow. It wasnt done deep enough to do much damage, but enough to make it bleed. It beaded in some places, and when he dug slightly deeper it gushed in a satisfying line around his arm. After some time he looked at his arm, just staring. They would be faint in only a week, and noone would be the wiser, and if they were they would never bring it up.

Dick had another shot, and picked up his phone. He messaged Wally again; ‘If there were a problem you would tell me, yeah?’ He really did care about his friends, wally more than most. 

‘Yeah. Would you?’

Dick looked down at his arm, which was already becoming crusty in some places. ‘yeah.’ was his reply.

He dropped his phone on the floor, not sure of what he was doing any more, poured another shot, and put it back just as the front door below him opened. He knew he should have been panicking, but he was mellowed. He just sat there, not even sure if he was breathing any more. There was a knock on his door, and he turned towards it and stared, just stared. He didnt speak, and from the other side all that could be heard was slow breathing. It was perfectly reasonable for them to believe that bubbly, happy, successful Dick was sleeping, or at least taking a nap, which was close enough to the truth within half an hour. In that time he had another two shots, did some things he would or wouldn’t regret in the morning, and passed out on his bed. 

In the morning, 5.50 to be exact, Dick woke up with an intense pain in his abdomen and a stabbing in his heart. His head felt light, and his temperature was too high. He stumbled to his bathroom and threw up into the toilet, and around it. He sloppily cleaned the mess with toilet paper and flushed it after throwing up a few more times. He leaned against the wall and looked at the ceiling, breathing heavily, waiting for his temperature to go down and the pain in his stomach to ease up a little.

When he was ready, he crawled back into his bed and pretended to sleep. He was now freezing, and curled up under his blankets until he wasnt any more, until he could pass himself off as at least a ‘moody teenager’. 

After some time Dick found his phone and looked at his call history. Nothing too bad there. Next he looked at his messages. The only strange thing was that he sent a picture of Alfred to Wally. He sent a quick ‘sorry, don’t even remember sending that.’ before looking at his facebook profile. Nothing embarrassing there. A quick look in his search bar saw his parents names as recent searches. He knew this was because of a sobre thought he sometimes got; that his parents were still alive and faked their death to get rid of him. He saw why that would be ridiculous sobre, and felt dumb for thinking it was possible as a drunk.

Overall, the night hadn’t been to bad. He had gotten what he deserved and didn’t make too bad of an ass of himself, and he was pretty sure if anyone had come home that night they didn’t know of his troubling behaviours. He knew he was destroying his health by drinking over half a bottle of rum in a few hours, but the truth of the matter was that he simply didn’t care any more, and neither did anyone else, but it wasn’t their duty to care. They had issues in their own life and it was selfish to believe they should notice any problem with him. They knew Dick drank obscene amounts, and one knew that Dick had stolen a blade and used it on himself, but noone ever brought it up in conversation, unless as a joke or in awkward air.

That one was Wally, and Dick could recall him asking ‘why’ one night, and Dick brushed it off with ease. Wally said ‘You're not pushing us away this time.’ and then he never brought it up in civilised conversation, except when Dick got blind drunk again. Dick wasn’t sure why he did it. He wasn’t haunted by his past, and his current life was great by all standards. He figured it was because he was selfish, and he felt selfish. He was in a position he simply didn’t care for, a life people would kill for, and he had done absolutely nothing to deserve it. He had no reason to cry, and so he hadn’t in months. If he ever did feel like crying, he would stare instead, not sure at all what to do.

Dick looked at his arm, dry blood still there from last night. He washed it off under water which stung a little, dried it with tissues which came away red, put on a thin wrist band and a hoodie over it, and finally showed his happy face to his family, his wonderful family that he didn’t deserve.

**Author's Note:**

> Based off my own experiences on a weekly basis. This fic is based off pure emotion yall


End file.
